


Bury me in satin

by sassymajesty



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, post 2x15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 01:04:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3509375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassymajesty/pseuds/sassymajesty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The taste of blood wasn’t unfamiliar to her. From sucking on her own scrapped fingers to accidentally getting enemy’s blood into her mouth, she knew what it tasted like – the metallic, almost copper like aroma, not quite within reach but impossible not to notice.<br/>But it tasted different somehow, when it was all but gushing out of her mouth with every breath she took.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bury me in satin

The taste of blood wasn’t unfamiliar to her. From sucking on her own scrapped fingers to accidentally getting enemy’s blood into her mouth, she knew what it tasted like – the metallic, almost copper like aroma, not quite within reach but impossible not to notice.

But it tasted different somehow, when it was all but gushing out of her mouth with every breath she took.

Her end was near, Lexa knew it.

Managing to turn herself on her side on the damp ground covered in leaves, she gasped for a breath that never came, the air she pulled into her lungs struggling with the thick warm blood that filled her mouth. It didn’t matter that she inhaled her own blood and coughing to clear her airways was useless – soon she would be dead.

Death never scared her, the thought barely even bothered her. She knew her spirit would find a new body, one yet to be born, soon enough. But her lonely journey towards the end – as lonely as it had been for the one ruling before her – was petrifying.

We come to this world alone and leave alone – she had heard this her entire life, a millennial saying that crossed generations. It seemed daunting still, knowing no one would be by her side when she took her last careworn breaths.

The last person to have seen her alive would be the Mountain Man who shot her – the one who killed her. At the same time – or _before_. probably before, but she couldn’t be sure anymore – his bullet hit her abdomen, she threw her knife at him, slicing his throat. His blood made him choke and she smirked at the clean death before she fell to the ground, her own blood forcing its way up her throat.

A small part of her resented throwing the knife at the enemy – if she still had it, she could put an end to her agony. She wasn’t in pain; not _real_ pain. It was a slow and all but soft torment, to be incapable of drawing a decent breath, knowing death was close but the relief was not close enough.

“ _Lexa!_ ” it sounded like a whisper, a distant plea in a familiar voice she couldn’t quite pinpoint. As the ground beneath her grew wetter with the blood pooling around her middle, she couldn’t be certain that someone was coming for her or if it was all just a hopeful figment of her imagination.

“ _Lexa._ ” she was sure she heard it this time, the suppliant voice closer to her, a sense of something similar to comfort filling her body. She focused all her energy on moving her head towards the sound, but all she was able to do was open her eyes.

The ground extending in front of her eyes seemed more uneven than she remembered it, tree roots sticking out of the gravel and fallen branches shielding the approaching person from her fast blurring vision. Blinking took an enormous effort and when she reopened her eyes, all she saw was thighs clad in unfamiliar fabric.

For a brief moment, she thought maybe the Mountain Men had some to gather her body so they could use whatever blood she had left. But soft hands cradled her face, lifting it softly until she was staring at the sky – she had expected a blue sky, but her eyes met the color of snow – and then a face entered her line of sight.

“Clarke.”

The single word fell from her lips, tumbled down her tongue like a memory – it was nothing more than a whisper, but it felt good to say it.

When she left the leader of the Sky People standing alone, ready to face the Woods Clan most feared enemy all by herself, Lexa had promised herself she would not pronounce Clarke’s name again. But she broke it time and time again as she repeated it like a chant, until she was only moving her lips, the sound long drowned under the flow of blood.

Remembering her last words to Clarke, Lexa almost chuckled; it was cut short by a weak coughing fit, a gargling sound filling her ears. _May we meet again_. She had uttered those words in a silent plea of forgiveness, knowing fully she would never again gaze into strangely blue eyes, never again see those golden curls whipping against the wind as they drove into battle.

It felt good to _see_ Clarke one time more – no matter the circumstances, having Clarke holding her felt like a gift sent from the heavens above, a last wish to the dying.

Her body was limp when Clarke maneuvered her carefully, arms enlacing her waist and shoulder, forcing her onto a sitting position as she looked for something on her back. She relished in the feeling of warm palms running up and down her torso, her head falling lifelessly on the other girl’s shoulder – it almost felt like a hug.

When Clarke brought her back down, as careful as she could in the hurry she was in, Lexa felt her back hitting something warmer and dryer than the ground – Clarke’s legs. The ghost of a smile crossed her lips as she let herself be scooted closer to Clarke’s torso, feeling strong arms supporting her head.

How ironic it was, to die in the arms of the one person that made you feel the most alive.

“Lexa, I- what were you doing here?” Clarke’s voice was rushed and urgent, her pace way too fast for Lexa’s increasingly fuzzy mind to keep up with. From the few words she did pick up, and from how well she knew Clarke, she was cursing Lexa for being on the verge of dying. “-supposed to be in Polis by now, why have you come back?”

Although it sounded like a pretty simple question, it wasn’t, and the answer came in fragments to Lexa’s quickly slipping consciousness. The first thing she remembered was chanting – _heda, heda, heda, heda_ – an insanely loud chanting that faded into white noise as they covered a few miles. She remembered tending to the injured, feeding the weak, comforting the hurt – she remembered being their commander as her heart broke with each breath she took when she didn’t know if Clarke were doing the same.

When her people were safely tucked in for the night, the guards dismissed, the warriors gone and the injured taken care of, she slipped away from the camping site, stealthily making her way back to Clarke. Her duty as her people’s commander has been served – she had found peace for their minds and body, now she had to look for hers.

Running through the night, Lexa made it back to Mount Weather before sunrise – her ribs hurt, her legs muscles were throbbing and her lungs didn’t seem to be working as well as they should, but she had made it. Her mind had concocted a poorly fabricated plan that consisted mostly of her hoping – that the door remained open, that the reapers weren’t in sight, that the Mountain Men hadn’t ripped Clarke to pieces yet.

Hope had always been a dream-like sentiment, something she couldn’t afford to feel. Yet now, it was everything she had.

“ _You,_ ” Lexa murmured against Clarke’s chest, her voice all but a ghost of it once was. She willed herself to swallow the blood that insisted in filling her mouth, but it was too thick, too warm, too powerful – just like the veil that started to fall heavy on her.

As Clarke buried her face in the crook of her neck, Lexa’s eyes fell almost closed despite her struggles to keep them open. The weak morning sunshine hit her half lidded eyes and she sighed as Clarke’s body heat seeped through their clothes – Clarke was _warm_ , like a bonfire in a winter evening – and a thought suddenly filled her mind. _This wasn’t such a bad way to go_.

Lexa heard a soft whimper coming from beside her followed by Clarke’s anguished voice saying “ _no, no, no_ ” and she took comfort in the wetness pooling in her collarbone – if Clarke were able to mourn her death instead of relish it, she might have a chance to be forgiven.

Trying to grasp onto Clarke – she vaguely noticed the blonde was still wearing the armor-like war clothes she had borrowed from the commander –, Lexa let herself feel nostalgic for a time that never existed and never could be. She had lived well, had ruled and guided her warriors wisely enough to be sure they’d pass on her orders until she came back, wiser and stronger than this time around. But she would never have Clarke.

She didn’t have any regrets – she just wished she had had more time.

Feeling strong arms tightening around her, she wished she could explain how reincarnation worked and teach Clarke what signs to look for – they wouldn’t be lovers, but her new self might enjoy having Clarke as a friend. Lexa had explained their traditions when it came to the dead when Finn had died, but she never told Clarke how it would be if a commander died; she never had had a reason to, and now she wished Clarke knew her generals would clean the blood off her clothes and body and dress her in white, wrap her sword in the red shawl she wore and bury it with it – in a wooden coffin covered with satin, like it was customary to do so many centuries ago.

Her strength was leaving her completely now and her eyes would never open again however hard she willed them to – she wouldn’t see the leaves swaying slowly against the wind or how Clarke’s eyes sparkled when she smiled. Even knowing she’d come back, she couldn’t help but miss the things she would never again feel – the rush after killing a boar, the softness of a lake water in a summer day, Clarke’s lips on hers.

Her incoherent mind distinguished a cracking choked up voice murmuring the words, “ _Lexa, please_ ,” against her cheek and a smile ghosted her lips, as weak as all her strength.


End file.
